


Incidental

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Running with the Fake AH Crew, you learn to take your lumps.





	Incidental

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon who asked for something with the FAHC AU and this prompt: “editor, make sure you fade in that soft jazz right about now.”

Running with the Fake AH Crew, you learn to take your lumps. 

Sometimes that means you get knocked around a bit on a job, come up against someone better than you expected and they get in a few hits before you drop them. Sometimes that means you get grabbed by some rival gang who have grievances against the crew. Sometimes though, and this one is a bitch, it means the cops manage to get hold of you.

Throw you in the back of a squad car and bring you to one of their stations, drop you into an interrogation room and get a little...creative in the way they ask their questions.

Knock their head against something hard when you're pulling them from the backseat of the squad car. Break a nose here, break a tooth there. 

Little things like that that could have happened while you were busy resisting arrest because everyone knows the Fakes are stubborn fucks, down to the last one. That they've done a lot worse than kneecap an officer trying to avoid being arrested.

Things they can cut out of the recording they're making of the interrogation, clever bit of editing that leaves out the police brutality. Won't have people asking questions, wondering how someone got from the squad car a little roughed up to _this_.

Bleeding and bruised and looking like they went a few rounds in the ring, because no one ever does in this fucking city.

“For the last time,” one of the cops says, voice pitched low and menacing as he grabs Michael by the hair to pull his head up. “Where were you on the night of the first?”

Michael grins up at the fucker, some asshole well past his prime who hasn't made peace with that just yet. Breath stinking of whatever he had for lunch, which seems to have been mostly whiskey, and a shitty comb-over that does nothing but make him look more of a joke than he already does.

“Board games,” Michael says, blood in his mouth, pain singing through him, an old familiar tune. “You would not believe how vicious they get with the crew.”

Goddamn cutthroat, really.

The stupid fuck doesn't like that answer, the same way he hasn't liked any of Michael's answers to his bullshit questions. 

Swears, low and bitter and hauls off and punches Michael again, knuckles against his cheekbone and his head snaps to the side.

Rinse and repeat like the last half hour and still Michael shakes it off. Glances to the one-way mirror where he knows people are watching one of the Fakes get a taste of what they have coming to them.

The fucker interrogating him is vibrating with anger, frustration, and Michael knows he's in for a rough time of it before the crew comes for him. Either sends in one of their lawyers because Geoff loves spitting in their faces like that, using the system against them, or maybe – and this is Michael's preferred option - give Ryan and Jeremy their head.

Open up the armory and one of Geoff's special garages, the ones with the weaponized vehicles meant for special occasions and let them run wild in the streets. Teach the cops that it's no little thing this, grabbing one of theirs and fucking them up just because they can. Born bullies who hide behind badges and think that's enough to protect them.

Whichever one they go for, it's going to be just, and Michael can take it until then.

He's been in worse spots than this before. Places like this and the knowledge there was no one coming for him, that the people he worked for wouldn't give a damn. Let him rot in some dark little cell somewhere for the rest of is life.

Getting knocked around by some washed up cop trying to save his sad little career by thinking he can break a Fake, bring the whole crew down is nothing compared to that.

Michael smiles, a bloody, fucked up mess that the people watching did nothing to stop, these upstanding citizens. Goddamn enforcers of the law and protectors of the innocent, because he knows how this works. Knows someone's already fucked with the security camera footage from the police garage and his trip down here.

“Hey, editor!” Michael calls out, voice rough. “make sure you fade in that soft jazz right about now!” 

He gets another punch for that. Loses another tooth, but he's laughing as it happens, because the stupid fuck with blood on his knuckles thinks he's the one in control here and has no idea what's headed his way.


End file.
